


convince you, love, don’t breathe it in

by potstickermaster



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, post 4x18, sort of fix-it i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 22:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18558895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potstickermaster/pseuds/potstickermaster
Summary: She takes a deep breath. “Because I can’t go running around looking for truth, Lena,” she says, carefully, so softly like she’s unraveling a secret. She takes off her glasses with her shaking hands and Lena realizes—she is. A deep, ragged sigh, like all hope is lost, falls from Kara’s lips. When she smiles, it’s hollow. “Not when- not when I am keeping it from you.”





	convince you, love, don’t breathe it in

**Author's Note:**

> a post 4x18 fic because i have feelings. honestly i dont know what this is because its mostly just word vomit and its littered with errors so like, sorry for that
> 
> god fuck i won't handle the fucking reveal you guys its gonna fucking end all of us
> 
> title from orpheus by sara bareilles

When Alex’s footsteps disappear and all that is left is the silence in her office, Lena’s well-forged defenses collapse. 

One would think that someone like her who has worn masks and put up walls for years and years would last  longer than just a few hours, but today was a test of her  _ everything.  _ The cracks in the mask of strength and neutrality she had worn in the presence of Alex Danvers and Supergirl give way and finally shatter in her lonesome. Lena breaks, finally, barely manages to pull her chair to sink into as exhaustion and tears make her entire being quiver in destruction.

She knew facing Lex head-on would be dangerous and, more than anything, painful. She loved him as a brother, respected him and looked up to him, and in his downfall still tried to reach out for the boy who took care of her when she was younger, when Lillian wouldn’t, when Lionel lost that side of him that cared. 

Even now, with his own words swirling in Lena’s mind like ink in water, Lena likes to believe that boy was still in there, somewhere—the kind older brother who reached out for Lena when no one else would, beneath the sick and twisted xenophobic man he had become. 

_ Clouds easily with emotions,  _ Lex had written.

The tears burn down her cheeks before Lena could notice. The lack of air burn her lungs, too, and Lena realizes her hands are shaking. Barely able to get up, she scrambles to find the tiny bottles of alcohol she kept in her desk drawers—never the right answer but always the quickest to soothe, and right now, Lena doesn’t need  _ right.  _ She needs to feel  _ less,  _ to feel cold and calm like Lillian did,  _ like a Luthor _ , because right now, that’s what she needed to be: cruel and cunning, if she need to right the wrongs her family had done. 

Lost in her thoughts and the burn of tears and alcohol and lack of air, Lena jumps when she hears the knock on her office door. Wide and fearful eyes focus on the doorway. Is it Lex? The police? Death herself? 

When eyes glassy from tears and alcohol focus on the blonde by the doorway, Lena’s heart surges for a moment. 

“Kara.” 

The name is breathed with relief and hope and  _ defeat. _ Her voice cracks and she doesn’t even dare hide the tears, not anymore; Kara is her best friend, after all, and if Lena had the courage to show her weakest, it’s in the presence of Kara Danvers. The dam breaks once more. 

But then Kara is pulling Lena in her arms and all she could feel is warmth and assurance. Lena laughs humorlessly; she must be delirious at this point, thinking she had imagined Kara a blur, speeding her way into her arms.

“It’s okay, Lena,” Kara whispers in her hair. “I got you.”

Lena holds on to her, to her words, holds Kara like she’s the only one keeping her whole. “I- I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” Kara assures, over and over, soft and understanding and everything Lena needed in that moment. 

It takes her some time to calm down. Lena doesn’t know if it has been minutes or hours, but Kara holds her, whispers assurances in her ear, until the shirt she wears is soaked with graceless tears. Her eyes feel swollen and her hands still tremble but Kara stayed.

_ Kara stayed. _

After a while, Lena pulls away. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Kara interrupts, and when Lena looks at her it seems like she is crying, too. Lena swallows the cotton in her throat and tries to make herself look halfway decent.

“What…” Lena clears her throat. “Not that I don’t want to see you, because I’m really glad that you’re here, but… Why are you?” 

Kara opens her mouth, closes it, before blinking a few times. “I- I wanted to see you,” she whispers. 

Sometimes, suffering is worth it. Hope blooms in Lena’s chest at Kara’s words, ache forgotten, sunshine peeking through dark clouds as she looks at Kara, but in her blue eyes is a storm that puts Lena on edge. 

“Is… Is everything alright?” Lena asks. What could it be this time? The final nail in the coffin, perhaps? 

No explanation comes. Instead, Kara stands from where she knelt as she held Lena, her hands slowly curling into fists. Lena thinks she’s  _ trembling,  _ too, and worry creases her features.

“Kara?” 

“I- I wanted to talk to you,” Kara whispers. A heavy feeling settles on Lena, and the fall from the edge seems higher, more painful now, and Lena feels like she’s staring down the barrel of a gun. Kara swallows—fidgets her hands,  _ trembling,  _ trembling hands, and Lena wants to run but she can’t feel her legs, can’t feel anything but the burn of her lungs and her cheeks as Kara reaches for her glasses.

The blonde swallows, takes a deep breath like she is about to dive in and never come up for air. Kara looks like she is close to breaking and Lena doesn’t think she can see her fully as the tears come again, again, _ again, _ burning her cheeks and her lungs and her entire being as she looks up at Kara. 

Kara with the storm and tears in her blue eyes. She sniffles and the mask she wears breaks, too, the same way Lena’s did—crumbles like she, too, is exhausted. Like she, too, is drowning. 

She takes a deep breath. “Because I can’t go running around looking for truth, Lena,” she says, carefully, so softly like she’s unraveling a secret. She takes off her glasses with her shaking hands and Lena realizes—she is. A deep, ragged sigh, like all hope is lost, falls from Kara’s lips. When she smiles, it’s hollow. “Not when- not when I am keeping it from you.” 

It stings. 

It stings like a fresh wound doused with alcohol, hits like sorrow and tastes like grief, and Lena wants to laugh because  _ this  _ feels  _ exactly  _ like the final nail in the coffin—today is the test of her everything and this is how she loses all hope, as the one person she has ever trusted stands in front of her, betrayal in her hands, and all of Supergirl’s hurtful words come rushing back as Kara stands there without her glasses, with that symbol of hope on her chest.

Lena wants to laugh. 

Lena wants to scream, but there is only exhaustion in her bones. It’s been a long day. Lex’s words take a backseat as Lena  _ stares  _ at Kara like she is trying to figure out if this is real. Maybe it’s a dream. A hallucination. All Lena could really muster is an anguished sob that breaks Kara, too—breaks the supposed Girl of Steel as nothing stands in their way anymore. 

Lena looks at the glasses in Kara’s trembling hand, looks up to find desperation in Kara’s eyes like she wants to reach out for Lena.

“I’m sorry,” Kara manages, and her voice breaks, too. Lena feels helpless. “All I ever wanted- All I ever  _ want  _ is to help people but all I ever seem to do is make things worse,” Kara says, and tears run down her cheeks freely now and Lena doesn’t think she has ever seen Kara,  _ Supergirl _ , so vulnerable and weak and—

_ Human.  _ So, so human. 

“And maybe I’m going to make things worse now, saying this to you, but I- I just—” Kara takes a shuddering breath, one that makes Lena swallow the reflex to  _ hold her.  _ “I don’t want to have any more lies between us, not when you bare so much of yourself to me, for my sake.”

Kara breaks the glasses in her hand and the pieces fall to the floor as she lets them go. She wipes her tears away and looks at Lena. 

There is chaos in Lena’s mind—Supergirl’s voice, angry, accusatory, Kara’s voice, helpless and hopeful—

Supergirl’s apology. The falter in her steps as they walk through the shadows of Stryker’s, Supergirl holding on to her even as she held onto the lives of many, Supergirl saving her over and over and over—

Kara Danvers, holding her as she breaks and grieves, telling her  _ I will always protect you, I promise.  _ Kara Danvers, holding her just minutes—hours?—ago, telling her that  _ it’s okay, I got you, Lena.  _

She stayed. Kara stayed, through everything. 

“I don’t want to lose you too, Lena,” Kara says—not Supergirl, no longer Supergirl, not anymore, not without her cape, without everything that makes her the heroine National City looked up to. Lena supposes she isn’t that anymore, not when there is doubt upon her, and she stands in front of the young Luthor, bare and vulnerable. 

In the chaos of everything, she is Lena’s Kara—she is last daughter of Krypton, borne of loss and grief and hope, help, and compassion; she is National City’s darling daughter, the Maiden of Might; she is CatCo’s ace reporter, with a thirst for truth and hunger for justice. 

She is Lena’s Kara, in the heart of it all. And in spite of everything—

_ What are friends for?  _

Lena finally finds the strength to move. She reaches for Kara’s trembling hands and holds on to them as Lena pushes herself up, reaches for Kara before she sinks, and holds on to her. 

“Kara. Hey,” Lena whispers, and it’s a wonder where she got the firmness in her voice when she feels  _ so _ fragile. “It’s—” 

It’s not okay. It’s not okay  _ yet,  _ but Kara is here and so is Lena and god, everything is a mess but they’re  _ here.  _

“It’s going to be okay, Kara,” Lena says, and Kara looks at her like  _ she  _ bears the crest that meant hope. 

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Kara says again, her voice so  _ small.  _ “I’m so, so sorry. I promise I- I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to keep you safe, and- and—”

If it were another day, Lena would have held fast. Pride is a Luthor trait, and despite knowing she isn’t like her mother or her brother, pride runs in her veins, too, and maybe she would have let Kara simmer in guilt for the betrayal she had done. Trust is a fragile thing and  _ so very important  _ to Lena, after all, and Kara, of all people, knew better than to break it. 

Then again, this is her Kara. If Lena had a soft spot, underneath all her walls and the armor she has forged through the years, it’s for Kara Danvers—the one person she has trusted even though Lena didn’t trust herself. And Lena knew, in her heart of hearts, that Kara cared about her—it was the only thing she was sure of, most days, the fire that keeps her going. 

And her Kara could break her heart over and over and Lena would forgive her.  _ What are friends for? _

Maybe they would still have to sit down and talk about this, later, when all the mess left is  _ this,  _ theirs—their relationship, or whatever is left of it, and they could figure out what to do together,  _ later,  _ but for now…

Kara stayed, and Lena stays, too—promises, amidst the chaos, because bygones are bygones and  _ this is her Kara.  _

“It’s going to be okay,” Lena repeats, her voice much firmer this time like she believes herself for once. She takes a deep breath and musters a smile before gently cupping Kara’s cheek to make the blonde look at her. “Kara,” she gently urges, “look at me.” 

It’s harrowing to look in eyes that for so long Lena had seen happiness and  _ hope,  _ only to see pain, loss, and  _ defeat  _ this time. 

When Lena smiles this time, she means it, if only for Kara.

Kara falls against her—collapses like the weight of the world on her shoulders has become far too much and only Lena could hold her up now. Lena wraps her arms around her, holds her with strength she didn’t know she had.

“We keep walking. We stay strong,” Lena says, repeats from earlier that day _ ,  _ and Kara holds on to her words as she holds on to Lena like she’s the only one keeping her whole. “I’m here.  _ El mayarah,  _ right?” 

She feels Kara nod against her. She feels the restraint in Kara’s grip, because Lena  _ is  _ fragile in her arms. Kara is Supergirl. Supergirl is Kara, because  _ of course.  _ Because no one else could be as kind and as fearless as Supergirl but Kara. 

No one would dare touch a Luthor with a ten-foot pole, but Kara. 

_ I will always protect you, I promise.  _

“Thank you,” Kara whispers, "for not giving up on me." 

Lena sighs.

“Thank you,” she says. “For coming clean. For… For everything.” 

It almost feels like a new beginning. 

They hold each other like that for a while, and time and space becomes irrelevant somehow—they make their way on the couch, sometime during the night, and sleep doesn’t come but Kara holds her hand and Lena holds hers, and Lena wants to laugh at how cliche it sounds but  _ truth will set you free  _ and all that.  

“Now,” Lena says, just as dawn breaks, smiles like she’s born anew even if she isn’t  _ fine,  _ and Kara squeezes her hand like she understands because she isn’t okay, too. Not yet, anyway. “Let’s go clean up my brother’s mess, shall we?” 

The promise of later for them and their mess is between her words, and Lena dreads it, but they will cross—burn?—the bridge when they get there.

“Together,” Kara whispers, and she says it like she is seeking Lena’s forgiveness again.

“Together,” Lena says. Not quite forgiveness yet, but understanding. 

It’s a start.

 

 

_ don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos _ _   
_ _ though i know it's blinding there's a way out _ _   
_ _ say out loud, we will not give up on love now _ _   
_ _ no fear, don't you turn like orpheus, just stay here _ _   
_ _ hold me in the dark, and when the day appears _ _   
_ __ we’ll say we did not give up on love today

orpheus by sara bareilles


End file.
